


Crime and Punishment

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Consensual Kink, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub Undertones, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Spencer Mansion Incident, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: Chris is very good at following orders.Mostof the time.Written for day 4 of 2018's Kinktober.





	Crime and Punishment

Chris is very good at following orders. _Most_ of the time.

The times that he’s not, his behaviour needs to be rectified. There has to be a punishment. Some form of retribution for his wrongdoing.

Honestly, Chris thinks that it has more to do with him being reckless, putting himself in danger, and the resultant worry that inspires in Wesker than it does with any actual form of discipline. Wesker’s a lot like him - a man of action - and Chris kind of gets the feeling that he _really_ doesn’t like being worried; it’s not an emotion that the man deals well with.

Not that Chris can really complain about the entire thing, because sometimes he makes the man worry on purpose. Just for the punishment. And that’s not fucked up at all, is it? But it results in some of the best sex that he’s ever had, so…

It’s one of those situation right now. Chris fucked up, put himself in needless danger, and now he’s waiting for his punishment. And that’s the best/worst part, letting the anticipation build up inside of him till he’s ready to burst and just start _begging_ Wesker to get it over with so he can have some form of release.

Honestly, Chris is pretty sure that HR would have something to say about how often he finds himself bent over Wesker’s desk, bare ass in the air. He really doesn’t care.

Chris has to focus on keeping his breathing even, and keeps his gaze focused on the solid grain of the wood in front of his face. He’s made the mistake of trying to track Wesker’s movement behind him before; and make no mistake, he can hear the man pacing back and forth behind him, agitated and, more than likely, annoyed.

There’s a tremor running up and down his spine, though, and Chris can’t help but shift a little nervously. The anticipation is boiling low and hot inside of him: meaning his dick’s already at half-mast.

_**Smack!** _

Chris yelps, starting forward. His ass stings sharply.

“Impatient as always,” Wesker mutters. “You’re as reckless as you are impatient, aren’t you, _Redfield_?”

He swallows the lump in his throat and bows his head; he hadn’t thought that Wesker would notice his nervous energy, but the man isn’t captain of Alpha Team for nothing.

There’s another loud _smack_. Chris bites his lip, has to struggle to keep his hips as still as possible.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

“Sorry, sir!”

“That’s better.”

Wesker always sounds a little like a cat when he’s pleased; his voice sounds a lot like a purr and it _does_ things to Chris that he hadn’t thought a voice could. It’s probably why he’s always so desperate to _please_ the man - sexually or otherwise. Well, that and how it usually results in something pleasant for _him_ as well. Mutual pleasure is important.

Wesker sighs, “I’d hope that you would have learned something from these little sessions of ours, _Redfield_. Such as not putting yourself in needless danger; you _are_ an important member of this team and would be… quite _difficult_ to replace.”

Chris chews the inside of his cheek, swallowing back a cheeky response. He nearly bites through his cheek when another, much _harder_ smack comes down right on his ass.

“Perhaps you need a more _lasting_ reminder…” Wesker murmurs. Then, louder and in what Chris likes to think of as his Captain Voice, “Redfield. Your last offense earned you how many strikes?”

“Twenty-five, sir.”

“And how many do you believe would be fair retribution for your current transgression?”

Chris sucks a deep breath in through his nose; he knows how this works, “Thirty, sir?”

“Mm.” Wesker makes a thoughtful noise, and Chris nearly jumps out of his own skin when the man cups his ass. It’s already turning red, the skin heating, and he’s only taken three strikes so far.

“I don’t think that my hand is enough to get the message across entirely, Redfield.” Wesker squeezes his ass tightly, which has Chris hissing in response. “If you insist on behaving like a child, then I will treat you as such. You’re aware of that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chris focuses on the dark grain inches from the end of his nose as Wesker withdraws. He can hear his blood rushing loudly in his ears, but it’s not enough to cover the sound of Wesker’s footsteps, the sound of something hard rasping against wood. He can feel Wesker’s eyes staring at his back and resists the urge to shift.

“I will take your request into account,” Wesker says. “But I want to make _certain_ that this will not happen again, and I’m not certain my hand alone will leave a lasting enough reminder. Therefore, your punishment will be as follows: thirty strikes from my hand, ten from the switch. In that order. And you are to count each strike.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

The anticipation licks at his spine, hot and sharp. Chris is old enough to remember having a switch taken to his knuckles as a child in school. He’s keenly aware that Wesker is not kidding that this is going to serve as a reminder; Wesker has not brought in implements before. This is serious.

He’s going to be feeling this one for some time. And that’s exactly the point.

“And Redfield?” Wesker leans over him, hand brushing against the top of his ass, as he whispers into his ear, “You are _not_ to cum until I say. Do you understand?”

Chris nods, “Understood, sir.”

It’s a typical agreement. One that’s become routine since the first time that Wesker took Chris into his office, bent him over his desk and spanked his ass till it was red. In his defense, Chris hadn’t _realized_ how much of a turn-on that was for him until he was three strikes in and seeing stars.

Of course, he’d been the one who had to clean up his mess after. Well, once his punishment had concluded and Wesker had fucked him senseless at _least_ twice. His legs had been made of jello after that one and sitting comfortably had been impossible for a couple days.

Chris is _definitely_ going to be feeling this one. Really, he hopes that he’s going to be feeling it for at least a week; that’ll beat the record.

With Wesker’s punishments, he doesn’t give warning when he’s going to start. He also doesn’t hold back.

The breath is nearly knocked out of him when the first strike comes.

“One.”

 

 

 

Honestly, Chris has got to be impressed with regard to both Wesker’s stamina and just how tough the man’s hands are. It’s not some light, playful spanking; no, this is meant to grab Chris’ attention and make absolutely certain that he’s reminded that he’s done wrong.

“Twenty-nine!”

By now, Chris’ dick is rock hard and leaking precum and he’s pretty sure that if he were to wrap his hand around it, it’d be slick. His ass and dick are throbbing in time with the beat of his heart; that coil inside of him is so tight that he can’t be certain whether or not he’s going to snap at any second.

His ass is going to be cherry-red, maybe even a little bruised, and Chris shivers at the thought.

“Thirty!”

He’s shaking now, almost violently. He can taste iron on his tongue; he’s bitten through his lip multiple times and more than once has found himself wishing that Wesker wasn’t counting on his own self-control in this situation. Chris hadn’t thought that he’d miss the cock ring, but right now he certainly does.

There’s a pause. It’s long enough for Chris to take a couple of deep, gasping breaths for air, his feet scrambling against the floor as he tries to push his ass further into the air. The anticipation’s back, humming through his veins and it’s better than any aphrodisiac.

The first strike is hard. It stings, actually _hurts_ , and Chris gasps.

“O-one!”

If he thought he might have bruises before, he _certainly_ is now. His ass is burning, more than likely cherry-red and absolutely hot to the touch. There’s an ache settling in now, a throbbing one in time to the beat of his heart that ramps up when the switch comes down again.

“Two!”

And _Christ_ , but Chris hadn’t thought it would hurt so good and this much. The teachers from his childhood certainly hadn’t prepared him for Wesker’s deft hand with a switch. At all.

“Three!”

All of his self-control is going into willing back the orgasm that he’s on the brink of. He bites his lip, tries to think of all the least sexually arousing things that he can, but that fails miserably because his attention is brought sharply back to reality with each and every strike.

“Four!”

He has to spit the words out. He’s not going to be sitting comfortably for _at least_ a week, if not longer.

“Five!”

Chris’ vision is starting to go white at the edges.

“Six!”

Only four more. _I can do this!_

“Seven!”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he fists his hands against the desk.

“Eight!”

Oh god, he’s not going to make it, is he?

“Nine!”

Only one more…

“T-ten!”

The only thing keeping Chris up is the desk under him. He collapses against it, panting and it takes the last scraps of his control to keep himself from just humping it to find release.

Wesker fists the hair at the nape of his neck and the sound Chris makes is a broken one.

“You may come now, Redfield.”

Chris’ vision goes white.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Prompt:** Spanking  
>  **Words:** 1606 words
> 
> Yo, I said I'd deliver on some more Chris/Wesker fic and here I am. Delivering y'all some high quality porn. You're welcome.


End file.
